


Papa

by CallistoNicol



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, but there is definite sifki at the end, challenge, it's more of a family fic, sifkiweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoNicol/pseuds/CallistoNicol
Summary: Loki didn't die at Thanos' hand and survived the Snappening. Sif didn't. He's miserable without her, until her dying gift arrives at his front door. It is going to prove his greatest challenge yet.(Yes, the dusting will be reversed. We need a happily ever after!)
Relationships: Loki/Sif (Marvel)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 64





	Papa

Mother was dead, Father was gone, and Sif a mere pile of dust. It made continuing on seem rather pointless. 

Thor’s insistence on constant gaming didn’t help matters. Not that Loki was particularly inclined to having a heart-to-heart with the moron who still thought Get Help was an acceptable battle tactic, but even if he was, Thor was lost in the Midgardian internet, making it a moot point.

(He did not dwell on how Get Help may have been their last pleasant moment together. It hurt too much to think that.)

New Asgard didn’t need Loki, as none of its residents were willing to overlook his past sins and accept his assistance. Valkyrie had that all in hand, anyway, leaving Loki with nothing to do but remember what he had lost.

The only good point of this new existence was watching Thor slowly balloon into a sad imitation of his former self. Loki was happy to help Thor maintain his new image, offering cake and cookies at every turn. Thor always accepted, mistaking it as kindness instead of seeing Loki’s determination to finally be better than Thor in one area.

If Sif were here, she’d give him disapproving frowns with every offered treat. Not that it would stop Loki, but he missed seeing her kissable lips as they pressed together. What he wouldn’t give for one more glare, one more severe word, one more promise to kill him if he injured her precious Thor. Anything, so long as she was alive. 

His heart hurt. 

* * *

One year into this new wretched existence, a pair of Einherjar arrived from deep space. Val accompanied them to the house Loki shared with his brother, an amused look on her face. She let the pair in, inviting them to sit. Loki thought about commenting on her impertinence, but that involved more effort than he cared to exert. 

The Einherjar gently set a large wooden box on the ground. Something inside of it moved, almost piquing Loki’s interest until he realized he’d have to rotate his head to investigate. It struck him, then, how indolent he was becoming. Loki poked his belly with one finger. Perhaps he ought not to mock Thor so much for his ballooning figure. 

“Highness,” the first Einherjar said stiffly. It took Loki a moment to realize they were addressing him. 

He sat up, facing the pair who were eyeing him like he was the snake Thor once thought he was. “Are you speaking to me, or did you mistake me for my lump of a brother?”

The Einherjar exchanged a quick look, then turned to face Loki again. “We seek you, prince.”

It had been so long since Loki was thus called. Straightening, he tried to regain some semblance of the prince his mother had trained him to be. “What may I do for you?”

There was another look exchanged. The second Einherjar seemed to be asking if this was a good idea, with the first shrugging in indecision. Curious.

“The box is for you,” the first Einherjar said, jutting his nose out toward the box. Whatever was inside of it moved again, accompanied this time by a growl. “The Lady Sif entrusted it to our care; we swore to never let the… package… near your person upon pain of death.” Loki’s breath caught in his throat; a package from Sif? Even better, one she never intended for him to see? But the Einherjar was not done speaking. “...Unless she died. Then we were to deliver it directly to you, sir.”

A death gift, then. What could his beloved Shieldmaiden have for him that she was only willing to bequeath upon her demise? Nothing he wanted to see, that was certain. He’d rather she lived.

“I don’t want it,” he said, turning his back on the men.

There was a moment of silence, then, “If you don’t open it, sir, he will die.”

“Let him die.”

“Sir,” the voice was strained. “Believe me, we wish there was elsewhere to drop this...gift. But there is not, and you must open it. It was our Lady’s dying wish, and we will see her wishes honoured. _You_ will see her wishes honoured.”

“You won’t regret it,” the other Einherjar said. There was sound much like a boot hitting an armoured shin. “...Probably won’t regret it,” he amended. 

In the end it was visions of Sif’s dark, disappointed eyes that prompted Loki to move toward the box. He had disappointed her in life; perhaps, just this once, he would not disappoint her in death.

A quick flick of his fingers did not undo the box’s latch as expected, and suddenly Loki was intrigued. The whole box was spelled shut, and by quite a masterful spell, too. What was so valuable that Sif needed it so protected?

Gathering a great ball of energy in his hand, Loki said, “Stand back.”

“Wait, sir, you must be gentle—” one of the Einherjar shouted, but it was too late, for Loki’s energy ball connected with the box. Of great interest to Loki was the magical resistance that repelled his energy ball in a blast that knocked all of them all their backs. It was clearly not of Sif’s making, for it lacked her magical fingerprint—not that she had the magical prowess to produce such a spell. Hence Loki’s interest. 

The blast broke open the box, wooden shards scattered about the living room. Standing in the center of the debris was—

A child.

A small child, pale of skin and dark of hair, looking straight at Loki with eyes that mirrored his own. 

“By the Norns, Sif sent me progeny.”

“Yours, sir,” the Einherjar said delicately, as if that wasn’t startlingly obvious. 

“I’m box Ullr!” the child cried, and Loki flinched. It was old enough to speak? “You broke my box! Give me a new box!” and he ran forward and kicked Loki, then ran off.

“I don’t want it,” Loki said. “Take it back.”

“No take-backsies,” the first Einherjar said. “Lady Sif’s words.”

Damn her. Even from beyond the grave, she was ruining his life.

“Well see ourselves out,” the Einherjar said, and scurried out like the cowards they were. 

Shouting came from the game room, then the sounds of Thor scolding…Loki. Apparently he was under the impression Loki had shrunk himself. There went the option of pretending the child wasn’t his. 

A child. How had that happened?

He _knew_ how that had _happened_ , but it had been so long since he and Sif were together that he didn’t think there were any consequences left. 

Another small explosion came from the game room, accompanied by the cursing of Thor’s alien friends. Loki sighed; he supposed he ought to go and accept responsibility.

Thor was busy shouting a lecture at the child when Loki walked in. Thor cut off mid-word, eyes bugging out as he glanced back and forth between Loki and the child. “Loki…?” Thor said slowly. Then he looked at the child. “Mini-Loki…?”

“Box Ullr,” the child said. “I want my box back.”

Thor looked back to Loki. “What is this?” he asked.

Loki shrugged. “A gift from Sif.”

“Sif is my mama!” the boy chirruped. He patted a locket about his neck. “Her ashes are in my necklace. Is this Asgard? I’m to drop her ashes on Asgard.”

Thor burst into laughter, collapsing onto the couch. Tears streamed from his eyes. “You have a son,” he wheezed. “You have a secret son and now you have to parent yourself!”

“I don’t get it,” the rock alien said. “What’s so funny?”

Why couldn’t Thor ever have intelligent friends? Loki sighed. Then again, he had no friends at all, so perhaps idiot friends were better than none.

“Well, Box Ullr,” Loki started, but the child interrupted him.

“Ullr,” he corrected. “You call me Ullr.”

“You have twice introduced yourself as Box Ullr.”

“Because I came from a box! But that’s for me. To you I’m just Ullr.”

Loki shook his head. “Whatever, pipsqueak. I’m Loki. That’s Thor. Those two—”

“Loki?” Ullr interrupted, tilting his head to the side. “Are you Bastard Loki, or regular Loki? Mama hates Bastard Loki, but likes regular Loki.”

“Mama’s dead,” Loki said, ignoring the pain in his heart. “I’m just Loki.”

“He’s Papa,” Thor said, his laughter finally abating. “And I’m Uncle Thor. Pleasure to meet you.”

Ullr’s eyes flashed. “Papa,” he said menacingly, then lurched forward to insert a knife into Loki’s calf. Where did the little blighter get a weapon? “Papa bad,” Ullr announced. “Kill the Papa.”

Thor was laughing again, finding humour where there clearly was none. Loki yanked out his son’s small blade and magicked the wound closed. Ullr snarled. “Not Papa, just Loki,” said Loki. He didn’t know this child, hadn’t been part of his life. He didn’t deserve the title of Papa. “And you are in sore need of discipline.”

“You are the worst person to impart morals,” Thor told him happily. “Oh, if only Father could see this.”

Loki would rather their mother be present. She would no doubt dote on Ullr, perhaps offer to help Loki with the difficult task of raising a hellion. Goodness knows he could use the assistance. What was one to do with a child?

He could start by finding out Ullr’s age. “How old are you?” Loki asked. 

“Seven last week,” Ullr said proudly. “I can read thirteen letters and count to twenty.”

Great. Loki had a stupid child. “You’re a little small for seven,” he said.

“Bastard Loki’s fault,” Ullr said confidently. Thor laughed again. “Mama said so.”

“Regular Loki doesn’t care,” Loki told him. “To the kitchen with you. You’re going to memorize the entirety of your alphabet before supper.”

“Yay, learning!” Ullr shouted and ran back into the front room. Loki waited, and a moment later Ullr popped back in. “Where’s the kitchen?” 

Loki escorted him there himself.

* * *

It turned out Ullr truly was half Sif, for he wouldn’t condescend to learn his letters until Loki opened a bag of peas, arranged them into letter shapes, and told Ullr he could stab every one he memorized. 

Korg and Meek were no help, popping in and out of the kitchen to eat Ullr’s letters. Ullr tried stabbing them; Meek was too quick for the blade to strike, but Korg wasn’t. Thankfully he was made of rock and barely seemed to notice. 

Either way, it irritated Loki. “Real men acquire vast knowledge so they can lord their superiority over less intelligent creatures,” he told his son. “ _Then_ they learn how to stab with pinpoint accuracy.”

“So if I get smart, I’ll get strong?” Ullr said hopefully. 

“Yes.”

It helped somewhat. The boy was still more interested in stabbing his peas, but he at least attempted to learn the letters first.

By the end of the night, Loki was exhausted. He tucked Ullr into bed, then went and found Thor, who was busy trying to rebuild the television set Ullr had earlier destroyed. “Offer to raise my son, and I’ll fix the TV for you,” he said.

“No deal,” Thor said. “When I fix the TV, my job will be done. You have decades of childrearing to go.” Loki collapsed onto the couch, ignoring his impending headache. Thor fiddled with the Midgardian device for minute or two more before saying, “So, you and Sif. When did that happen?”

“Seven years, nine months, and one week ago. Apparently.”

“Not what I’m asking.”

Loki sighed. “It was a quiet affair. We did not make a spectacle of it, which made it easy to end.” No muss, no fuss, as the locals would say. Loki had always regretted that.

“Before or after your stint as king?” Thor asked.

“Before. I think. Shortly before.” Doing the math, Loki realized his son had been born about when he attempted a hostile takeover of Midgard. No wonder Sif hadn’t been on the welcoming committee when he returned to Asgard in chains. He wondered if his mother knew, and was sad to know it did not matter. 

They sat in silence for a time, the only sound the ticking of the clock in the next room over. 

“Guess we’ve got a kid to raise,” Thor said at last. 

“Don’t let me mess it up. I was a wretched child.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

Loki rolled his head to stare at his brother. “Snake. Stabbing. Pranks. Dyeing Sif’s hair. Poison pellets in Hogun’s food. Dwarf revenge—”

“Peace, brother. I’ll help.”

At least Loki wouldn’t be alone.

* * *

They settled into a pattern. Thor exhausted Ullr in the morning with sword practice, then spent the afternoon gaming while Loki filled Ullr’s mind with knowledge, both practical and magical. It took some adjusting to a seven-year-old’s capabilities, but once that was accomplished, he actually enjoyed teaching his son.

Until the kid learned how to play practical jokes with his magic. 

“ULLR!” Loki shouted, sopping wet, naked but for a towel around his waist. His skin was blue all over, and not because he’d reverted to Jotun form. All he’d done was touch the soap, and the bubbles encased him a gooey prison as his skin was slowly dyed blue. 

“Eee hee hee hee,” he heard from the vicinity of the linen closet. 

Two could play at that game. No one had out-pranked Loki in his youth, and he wasn’t about to let his son start now. Muttering a spell, he heard a yelp, then witnessed Ullr run screaming from the linen closet, his skin an iridescent green. 

A moment later the scream cut off. “Cool!” the kid shouted. “Can I glow in the dark?”

“Revert my skin to it’s normal colour,” Loki growled, “and I’ll consider it.”

Ullr popped his out back into the hallway. “Dunno how,” he said, then disappeared again.

Loki was blue for a week before he could craft a decent counterspell.

* * *

Korg was the next victim. His rocky skin randomly spouted graffiti. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, but the graffiti spelled out insults, and the overly sensitive rock creature cried every time he read a new one. Loki was more irritated by the crying than the graffiti, and was on the verge of stealing Korg’s voice forever when Thor stepped in and grounded Ullr for a month, then refused to teach any more sword forms until Ullr reversed the spell. 

That took him a week to undo. Ullr begged for help, but Loki told him if he was smart enough to craft a spell that wrote words when he himself could barely read, then he was smart enough to undo it. Frigga used to use similar punishments on Loki. He sent an apology to the skies, hoping it reached his mother in Valhalla. Maybe she could put in a good word for him to the fates, forgive him for his many childhood infractions and not make Ullr such a handful.

* * *

No such luck, of course. As soon as Loki taught Ullr how to transfigure objects into animals, he started practicing on anything he could get his hands on, including the four occupants of the house. Unfortunately, Ullr’s magic wasn’t good enough to transfigure the whole person, so they all ended up sporting various animal body parts. Korg complained loudly when his webbed frog hand prevented him from joining in a Fortnite raide. Meek nearly got squashed when his torso turned into a spider body. Loki wanted to hogtie his son, but his delicate jellyfish arms made that difficult. Made stinging his son extra easy, at least, which almost made up for it.

Thor spent the better part of a week as half a horse. Ullr tried to ride him around, but Thor put an abrupt end to that when he sat on Ullr until he cried out that he couldn’t breathe.

Loki wasn’t sure if Sif was in Valhalla—no one was quite sure what became of the dusted population—but if she was out there in any sort of afterlife, he had no doubt she was enjoying the disaster that was Loki raising Ullr.

* * *

Shortly after Ullr’s 8th birthday, a mob of Asgardians showed up to complain to Loki.

“That menace turned my daughter into six daughters,” one irate mother said.

“It’s bad enough I have to farm on Midgard,” a former soldier said, “but now your offspring is hiding babies in my haystacks? Most of them are illusions, but one was a real baby, so I have to be careful lest I kill someone’s child!”

“He’s ugly,” another said. 

“That’s your complaint?” Loki demanded. 

The man shrugged. “Had nothing to offer, but I wanted in on the mob.”

Loki pinched his nose. “I’ll deal with it,” he said. 

“I can’t believe this is what Odin’s lineage has come to,” someone said. Loki made her tongue vanish, then shut the door with a sneer.

“Ullr!” he bellowed, tracking down his son who was innocently reading a book at the kitchen table.

“Yes, Regular Loki?” he asked, looking up from his book.

Loki plucked the book out of his son’s hands and turned it right-side up. “When pretending innocence, make it believable,” he said. “And leave the villagers alone.”

“I’m just tryna make ‘em laugh,” Ullr said. “Nobody’s happy around here.”

That’s because they’d lost their home and a significant portion of their population _before_ Thanos appeared. It had been nothing but loss ever since. But Loki did not want his son touched by that sorrow, not yet. “Just leave them be,” he said softly. “Focus your pranks on Thor, and ignore the rest of New Asgard until you learn something useful.”

“Okay,” Ullr said.

* * *

Thor spent the better part of the next month hiding from Loki’s terror of a child, and Loki couldn’t quite make himself feel bad about it.

* * *

Loki discovered Ullr had learned something useful when he disappeared for three nights. After searching the property until he and Thor were run ragged, Loki finally ventured into the village where a trail of wildflowers led him to the healing hut.

Inside the hut, Ullr was sitting with Eir, setting a broken leg. “I learned how to close flesh,” Ullr said. “Been practicing for a while with my knife.”

“On yourself?” Loki asked, aghast.

Ullr shrugged. “You banned me from practicing on anyone else,” he said. “Who else was I gonna practice on?”

“He’s quite good,” Eir said. “Alf here had a bone break through the flesh. After I set it, Ullr closed the wound. He would make a good healer.”

The glint in Ullr’s eye made Loki question if that was true. 

“I’m pleased with the work,” Alf said, patting his leg. “Good as new!”

“Not even a scar,” Ullr said, proud of himself. “Maybe I could be a healer!”

Grabbing his son by the scruff of his neck and escorting him outside, Loki said, “We’ll see about that.”

* * *

By midnight, Ullr was banned from the healing hut.

Alf came hobbling to the house shortly before midnight, shouting and carrying on so much he woke Loki and Ullr. (He couldn't wake the other inhabitants of the house as they were, once again, busy gaming). Loki met the man at the door, glaring daggers at the infidel for daring to interrupt his beauty sleep. One did not look like he did without a proper night’s rest.

“What?” he said sharply.

“I. Have. Chiggers!” Alf shouted, loudly enough that Loki was grateful their nearest neighbor was miles away. “ _Chiggers_. Your son cursed me with chiggers! They're not even native to this region!”

Loki crossed his arms, glaring at the man. “What makes you think my son is responsible for them?”

“They are rainbow coloured and sparkly,” the man hissed. 

The only other person who would do such a thing was Loki himself, and he wasn’t about to take the blame for his son’s actions. He sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Banish him to Muspelheim,” Alf suggested, anger making his words harsh.

“Goodnight,” Loki said, closing the door in the man’s face. He turned around. “ULLR!” he bellowed. Sometimes it felt like all Loki did was bellow Ullr’s name. 

A head of dark hair peeped around the corner. “Yes, Regular Loki?” Ullr asked, innocent once more.

Grabbing the tyke, Loki opened a shadow portal and deposited his son on an unknown star. “I will be back for you,” Loki said. “If you have moved so much as one inch, I will incinerate the hair from your body.”

Ullr’s eyes went wide. “You can do that?”

“Don’t move,” Loki barked, and returned home.

Surely he hadn’t been this unruly as a child, had he?

Sitting at the kitchen table, he buried his head in his hands. Even if he had been this naughty, surely the Sif half of Ullr should balance him out a bit. She might tend towards the violent, but that was only against enemies. With her friends and countrymen, she had impeccable manners. Why didn’t Ullr inherit that?

Not for the first time, he desperately wished Sif was around to co-parent. 

But then, if Sif was still alive, she’d still have sole custody of their child.

Then again, as far as he knew, she’d been under the impression he was dead (again). Perhaps her keeping him from Ullr had more to do with her thinking him long gone and less to do with keeping father and son separated.

Loki sighed, wondering if the Einherjar who dropped his son off did so knowingly, or were pleasantly surprised to discover him alive. 

“Brother?” Thor asked softly, sitting down opposite Loki. “What has happened to Ullr?”

“I don’t know,” Loki said, voice full of anguish. “He’s becoming a hell demon of the finest order, and I can’t seem to stop it. He doesn’t react to discipline and flagrantly disobeys any positive direction.”

“Oookay,” Thor said. “I meant where did he go because he’s not in the house, but we’ll deal with that in a minute. 

“Have you considered asking him why he is the way he is?”

Looking up, Loki stared at his brother in shock. “ _Ask_ him?” he demanded. “He’s a child! Children don’t have two brain cells to rub together. Why on earth would I talk to him?”

Leaning back in his chair, Thor raised his eyebrows in a gesture that made him look much like their mother. “I think half his problem is he has an overabundance of brain cells. No normal child could come up with half the devious tricks he does. He’s definitely your son.” That was a point Loki could concede, and did so with a nod. “And don’t dismiss him just because he’s young. That’s Father speaking. You should know better than anyone what it is like to idolize a father who won’t give you the time of day.”

“Beg pardon,” Loki said shortly, “but I spend half of every day with him.”

“Not what I mean,” Thor said. “You teach him magic and force him to read books, but have you ever talked to him? Just sat down and listened?”

It took Loki a moment to figure out what Thor was trying to say. “You mean spend quality time with him?” 

“Yes.”

Loki thought that’s what he had been doing, but perhaps Thor’s words were worth considering. Odin spent so little time with Loki as a boy that spending any time at all with Ullr seemed like a vast improvement. It hadn’t to occurred to him that he wasn’t spending the time properly. 

Standing up, Loki opened his portal and rejoined Ullr, who had not so much as twitched.

“I didn’t know if you were gonna leave me here forever,” Ullr said morosely.

“I said I’d be back.”

“You lie.”

“Not to you.”

“Mama says you...said you do,” he corrected himself. Loki took a moment to swallow the lump in his throat before sitting down next to Ullr and slinging his arm across his shoulders. 

“She’s not wrong," Loki said, "but if I tell you something, Ullr, I mean it."

He nodded like he accepted it. It was amazing, how trusting a child was. Loki couldn’t quite remember being that way, but he must have, for he remembered idolizing his father when he was small.

Ullr looked down. “How much trouble am I in?”

“Depends,” Loki said.

Ullr looked back up. “On what?” he asked, voice carefully neutral, though his scheming eyes betrayed his calm.

“Depends on why you did it.”

“Did what?”

“Ullr.”

“I’m just saying, I done a lot of stuff. You have to be specific.”

Eurgh, that undoubtedly meant there were other pranks Loki did not know about. How much trouble could this child get himself into? “Why did you give Alf technicolor chiggers?”

Ullr shrugged. “I read about it in that book you made me read.”

“I did not make you read about technicolor chiggers.”

“No, it was about making things rainbows. And the book before that was about moving bugs. I just combined them into one.”

Loki had to fight not to let his surge of pride show. For such a young boy to take two notions from two separate sources, combine them into one brilliant idea, and perfectly execute it was impressive, and far more than Thor could do, or the Warriors Three before they’d been brutally slaughtered. His son might be a mischief magnet, but he was a clever mischief magnet. 

He wished Sif was here to witness the brilliance of their boy.

“That explains how you did it. Now tell me why.”

Ullr’s eyes rounded and he ducked his head. Aha. There was an underlying reason, and clearly it was more than just the desire to create mischief. 

“I don’t wanna,” Ullr said in a small voice. “Can’t I just be grounded instead?”

Loki said nothing, waiting for his son to get so uncomfortable he could no longer keep silent. Loki squeezed Ullr’s shoulders, hoping it sent some kind of message that he could wait all night. 

It didn’t take very long. Perhaps Thor was right about this spending time with his son thing. “I wanted you to see me,” he mumbled, so quietly Loki almost missed it.

“I see you,” he said, not quite understanding. “I see you everyday.”

“No, you teach me every day. You don’t _see_ me,” Ullr said, jumping up to pace in front of Loki. “You don’t ask me questions and you don’t listen to my ideas and you don’t ask if my day was okay. Mama did.” He abruptly closed his mouth and turned away from Loki. 

The silence was heavy as Loki tried to work through his own sudden need to shed a tear. He’d been so busy with Ullr lately that he hadn’t thought much about Sif, but now the grief hit him anew. He missed her. He wished she was with him, helping Ullr become a much better man than Loki was helping him become. She would know how to navigate these waters; she actually acknowledged her feelings, unlike Loki, who still spent more time than not pretending he did have any.

He reached out for his son. “Ullr, come here,” he said, drawing Ullr into a hug. He smoothed his son’s hair. “I miss her too, you know,” he said. “She was better than I’ve ever been. Better with comforting, too. I’ve always preferred books and scrolls to dealing with others.” He thought briefly of Asgard’s lost library. There wasn’t a center of knowledge equal to it in all the Nine Realms; it's destruction during Ragnarok had been the greatest casualty. 

“It’s not just that,” Ullr said, pulling back so he could fiddle with his thumbs. Loki recognized the nervous tic, one he himself had often used around Odin when trying to express a feeling he knew would be casually dismissed. 

Placing his larger hand over Ullr’s two smaller ones, he said quietly, “You can say whatever is dancing on the tip of your tongue. I promise I’ll listen.”

“I want to call you Papa.”

Loki pulled back in shock. “Okay?” he said, more question than statement.

“Mama always called you Papa,” Ullr said earnestly. 

“I thought you said she called me Bastard Loki. Or Regular Loki.”

“She did. But only about you and her. When it was you and me, she called you Papa.”

Even dead, she was showing him up. For once, Loki was not irritated by the knowledge. “Then call me Papa,” he said. 

“You’re not bad,” Ullr said. “Not as good as Mama, but you’re not bad. Papa.”

It was amazing how one tiny would could shatter Loki’s heart and rebuild it into something beautiful. Drawing Ullr once again into a tight embrace, Loki placed his head on his son’s and pretended he wasn’t weeping into his son’s hair. His son. His child. His tiny, perfect, wonderful child.

“Mama loved you,” Ullr said into Loki’s shoulder, voice partially muffled. “She said so. I love you, too.”

“And I love you,” Loki whispered. 

After a long while of holding tight, Ullr started wiggling loose. Loki released his embrace and ruffled Ullr’s hair. “I’ll be better,” Ullr promised. “No more mean pranks. Just funny ones.” 

Loki wasn’t quite convinced his son knew the difference, but now wasn’t the moment to say so. “Deal,” he said. “Now let’s go home.”

* * *

To Loki’s surprise, Ullr did know the difference. He stopped terrorizing the household and the village, and started using his magic to make everyone laugh. Loki still pushed Ullr in his studies, but they ended an hour early every day and took long walks together, where Ullr prattled about whatever childish thing was on his mind, and Loki showcased his own magic. The demonstrations almost always left Ullr gobsmacked, and he started taking his studies seriously, determined to become like his papa. 

The day came when Thor’s hero friends arrived asking for assistance defeating Thanos once and for all. Loki, not at all certain the Avengers were up to the task, starting teaching Ullr how to access a pocket dimension so he could ride out whatever stupidity the Avengers engaged in. They didn’t need it, in the end, but it opened an entirely new avenue of magic to Ullr, and suddenly Loki couldn’t keep track of his son. Ullr would start in one room of the house, open a shadow doorway, and arrive in the kitchen ten minutes later with market goodies snatched off a planet 300 lightyears away. 

It was very difficult to scold his son when he was so proud. 

When Thor announced all the dusted people had come back to life, Loki’s heart started pounding ferociously. Sif hadn’t been on board _The Statesman_ when Thanos destroyed it, meaning she was once againout there somewhere, probably wondering where her baby boy was—unlike the rest of Thor’s friends, or their parents, who were gone for good. Their loss weighed heavily on Thor, and once again he was walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“Can we do anything about that?” Ullr asked. Loki thought about it, then gave Ullr the rabbit’s contact information (rabbit, he scoffed; what kind of idiot was Thor? It was clearly a trash panda). Ullr called the annoying trash panda and begged it to help Thor. In response, the trash panda offered Thor a place on its crew. Thor asked Loki if he and Ullr would like to join him, but Loki declined. For the first time in his life, he had found a home, and he did not feel a need to leave it.

“What if _I_ want to travel the stars?” Ullr demanded. 

“Can't," Loki replied. "We have to wait here for your mother to find us."

That froze Ullr. “Mama?”

“Thor said everyone who was dusted came back. That includes her.”

Ullr ripped off his locket, opening it. It was empty inside. “Mama’s coming home!” he shouted, dancing around their house. “Mama’s coming home! Mama’s coming home!”

At least, Loki hoped she was.

* * *

Months passed, and Loki’s hope waned. Sif had access to the best technology; surely, if she was alive, she would have made her way to New Asgard by now. Yet with each passing month, he began to wonder if she hadn’t been killed by some other means. Yes, Ullr had claimed he carried his mother’s ashes, but it’s not like Loki ever verified they were her remains. Or perhaps she had returned, but died at the hand of someone else on her way home.

Ullr, however, did not doubt. Every day was exciting for him, because today was the day Sif would come home. Her continued absence did nothing to disrupt his enthusiasm. Instead, with each passing day, he created more and more elaborate stories detailing her adventures on the way home. Loki was beginning to worry that if she did arrive, her reality would be a let down to their son. 

“Papa, you worry too much,” Ullr told him. “You should enjoy life more, like me and Uncle Thor.”

Loki didn’t have the heart to tell Ullr that Thor had spent much of the past several years in a deep depressive funk. 

“Mama’s coming home today, Mama’s coming home today,” Ullr chanted as he cast spells to repel dust and darkness.

* * *

A year after Thanos’ final defeat, Loki gave up hope entirely. For whatever reason, Sif wasn’t coming home. 

The house was full of paper scraps from the countdown chains Ullr made every other week. The whole house remained sparkling clean, just in case Sif arrived, because Ullr didn’t want her to think they lived like slobs. (They didn’t, not anymore, now that Thor was gone and his alien friends were returned home.) Ullr had even been focusing on plant magic during his studies. No matter what time of year Sif came, he wanted her to be greeted with fresh flowers. 

Loki didn’t discourage any of it. Just because he felt foolish for ever hoping he could be reunited with his love didn’t mean he had to rain on his son’s parade, though with each passing day he found it harder and harder to pretend.

Until.

The knock came just after dawn. Ullr, who had been sound asleep, awoke and flew through the house to answer the door, as he always did whenever someone came over. Loki remained in his bed, determined not to witness another letdown, even though Ullr would remain endlessly positive. 

He waited for the exuberant welcome to diminish into normal conversation, but did not hear it. Instead, Ullr’s voice filled the whole house as he shouted, “MAMA!”

Loki sat straight up, heart pounding. 

_She was here_.

Flying out of bed, he dressed himself with magic as he walked down the stairs, the flying comb working on his hair disappearing just as he reached the bottom step and entered the living room. There she was, looking as perfect and whole as he last remembered seeing her. She was dressed casually, in Midgardian clothes, her hair high in her usual ponytail. A pleasant flush from the early morning chill graced her cheeks, and she was laughing at something Ullr said.

Loki froze in the doorway, uncertain how to move forward. Last time he saw her as himself, she threatened to kill him. 

“Papa!” Ullr shouted. “I told you she’d be here! Mama’s home!”

Sif turned to face Loki. He expected rage, disappointment, disapproval. He anticipated her lips curving downward, her eyes turning hard, her tone icy. 

He did not expect her lovely, genuine smile. “Loki,” she said warmly. “I’m so happy to see you.”

And then they were in each other’s arms, holding tight, apologizing without words. Ullr, a delighted observer, couldn’t wipe his grin off if he tried.

“Where have you been?” Loki whispered, pulling back to stare at her lovely warm eyes. 

“In the village, watching from afar,” she said. “Thor told me how different you are, but I had to see it for myself, when you didn’t know I was looking.” She reached up to trace his features, her fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake. “Gone is your angry, mocking look,” she murmured, her fingers pausing at the corners of his eyes. “You seem relaxed. I even think I see a smile line.”

“Just the one,” he said dryly, “unless you are mistaking it for the lines of irritation at your son when he gets into mischief.”

“Just like his papa,” she said. 

That word was so beautiful coming from her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

“Because you were dead. Then you were taking over Midgard. Then you were in prison. Then you were dead again.”

“And then you were dead,” he finished for her, then paused, changing his tone. “Did you really have to send him to me in a box?”

“A box?” she asked, confusion marring her brow. She turned to Ullr. “A box? Truly?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said innocently. “It’s been six years, Mama. I was too small to remember.” 

Neither of them believed that for one second. 

“He hid in his box when he was being particularly naughty,” Sif told Loki, leading him to the sofa. He sat next to her, revelling in her nearness. “For him to be transported thus, he must have been naughty indeed.”

“An absolute nightmare,” he agreed. “But I beat it out of him.”

Ullr came over and squeezed in between them. He radiated contentment. “Does this mean we’re a family now?” he asked hopefully. 

“Always, my heart,” Sif replied. “But do be patient with your parents; it may take us a while to settle in together. We did not part on excellent terms.”

“But you met on excellent terms,” Ullr said, “so I think it will be okay.”

Meeting Sif's eyes, so full of hope and mirroring his own, Loki couldn’t help but agree.


End file.
